


Connection

by ClillaryHinton



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22147132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClillaryHinton/pseuds/ClillaryHinton
Summary: Chloe and Beca never met at Barden. Years later, Chloe's frustrated with the direction her life has taken. When she gets stood up by her date, she's about to declare the evening a lost cause when a pretty brunette sitting alone at the bar asks her if she's waiting for someone...
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 41
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has cross-over elements from Almost Family, but I don't think it has enough elements from there to be a cross-over as such, but frankly, I'm not sure. I’ve changed a lot, since I think the Australian version (Sisters) handled a lot of the dub-con/non-con stuff better (and I think Britt kind of deserved that script and that version of Julia, but that’s another story) as well as the father character.  
> You can read this even if you haven’t seen Almost Family or Sisters, it’s basically your ordinary Bechloe with some frills. It gets kind of angsty in the middle, but have faith.  
> Not sure how far I need to go with warnings, but it does (sort of) contain spoilers for seasons 1 of Almost Family/Sisters and mentions of possible incest. You’ll have to trust me when I say this isn’t incest smut, but if the mere mention of it is too much for you, you might want to give this a miss.

Chloe notices the pretty brunette by the bar as she walks in. Dark chocolate hair, dark blue eyes. She looks effortlessly good in her worn leather jacket and tight black jeans. She wonders if she's waiting for a date too. If she is, they're lucky.  
She looks around and notices that her own date isn't there yet. She made an effort to be on time, she tends to be late for things. Obviously, she shouldn't have bothered.  
She sits down and debates whether to order or wait for when "Tad" got there. She isn't even sure why she'd agreed to meet him, he hasn't impressed during their awkward conversations. She knows her tendency to use these Tinder guys as a way to feel good about herself is destructive and a little sad.  
For the first ten minutes, she pretends to read the cocktail menu. For the next ten, she pretends to be fascinated by a New York Times article she's reading on her phone. When she realizes Tad probably isn't going to show, she stares listlessly at her increasingly lukewarm glass of white wine for another ten minutes. Another Saturday night coming home early after a disastrous date, getting into her pajamas and try to decide which Netflix show to binge. Except that she didn't even make it to the date part this time.

"Waiting for someone?"

She looks up. The voice belongs to the brunette, who's still alone, Chloe notices.

"Yeah."

"Oh, OK."

"But I guess he's not showing up."

"A guy stood you up?"

"Seems like it."

"Wow. Is this a recurring thing?"

"I don't know."

She doesn't know why she's so hesitant to say it's a Tinder date, everyone was on dating apps these days. But sitting alone in a bar on a Saturday night waiting for a Tinder no-show seemed like a new level of sad, even for her. But she doesn't know this woman, so there's no reason to try to keep up appearances.

"It's a Tinder date. I had my doubts even before this."

"Dude, you deserve way better."

Chloe sighed.

"I know."

"Why did you agree to meet him?"

It wasn’t asked in a judgmental tone, just curiously. There's no way she will answer that question honestly. That she'd been feeling sad and lonely lately, that she missed her college days and was in desperate need of some sort of validation that she was still attractive or interesting to someone.

She shrugged.

"Just trying to keep an open mind."

The brunette smiles.

"Maybe close it a little in the future?"

She smiles back.

"Maybe…"

"Can I buy the next round? It would be great if this barstool was already taken so no more guys with obvious Dunning-Kruger tries to claim it."

She hadn't expected that. She'd assumed the pretty girl just talked to her because she looked sad and lonely. But she had noticed a guy trying to sit down next to the brunette and how the conversation became kind of heated before he left her alone.

"I don't know… I should probably call it a night and go home."

"Normally, I'm a big fan of going home, trust me. But I want to finish my drink in peace and having to fend horny guys off sucks, so I'd consider it a favor."

There is something about this girl that intrigues her. Maybe if she takes her up on the offer, the evening won't feel like such a bust.

While they're talking, she sees a guy walk toward her. Swiftly, she gets up and slides down on the stool next to the brunette just before he makes it over.

"I've been watching you sitting there all by your lonesome. I'd like to buy you a drink, help you turn that frown upside down."

The brunette looks at him with raised eyebrows.

"Dude… That's your actual pick-up line? Really?"

The guy smiles at her, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"Worked before."

"Why wouldn't it? It's creepy _and_ condescending, who wouldn't want that?"

Chloe smiles politely. But not too politely, she doesn't want him to get the wrong idea.

"Thanks, but as you can see, someone beat you to it."

The brunette puts her hand in Chloe's.

"Dude. She means 'go away', but she's too polite to say it."

He stares belligerently at her, but apparently decides to let it go and shuffles off.

"He really didn't like that."

"Worked before!" The brunette imitates his cocky tone of voice and Chloe laughs. She likes this woman already.

”You weren’t... into him, right?”

Chloe shakes her head emphatically.

”Not my type.”

The girl hasn’t let go of her hand. It feels good in her own. Warm, soft and comforting. She's disappointed when she pulls it back, but she realizes this stranger isn’t about to sit here randomly holding her hand.

"Do you go to this place a lot?"

"Did you just ask me if I 'come here often'?" the brunette deadpans.

Chloe smiles at her.

"I'm asking because I haven't been here before and I'm sort of making a mental note not to come here again."

The girl nods and looks around in the soulless chain restaurant and bar, as devoid of a personality as Tad had seemed in their Tinder conversations.

"I know what you mean. It's pretty bad. I've passed it on my way home from work and figured it would do for a quick drink, but apparently I was wrong."

She puts her beer down and holds her hand out.

"I'm Beca."

"Nice to meet you, Beca. I'm Chloe."

"I forgot how much I hate being alone in bars. It's like you have a bullseye on your back for douchebags."

She takes a sip from her beer.

"Hope that was OK. Pretending I had picked you up in a tacky bar."

"Oh, totes. I'd be super flattered if you tried."

Beca is easily the most attractive person in this place, so that part was true.

"Really? You've seen you, right?"

Even though everything Beca said sounds vaguely sarcastic, she senses that there's a sincere compliment in there. She really enjoys this awkward flirting, fake flirting, whatever is going on here. Beca is probably just being nice because she had looked sad and pathetic before, but she'd take it.

Beca gets them another round.

”So, you said this place was on the way home from work for you. What do you do?”

”I’m a music producer.”

Chloe leans forward in excitement and puts her hand on Beca’s leather clad arm.

”Really? That’s awesome! What are you working on?”

"Right now, I'm working on a remix EP of Ana Black tracks that features mashups with Suckah, who's this 18-year-old rapper the studio thinks will make it big.”

"Oh my god, I love her!"

"You know Ana Black?”

Chloe makes a 'bitch please' face.

"Eh, yeah. Have I been living under a rock? You must be super talented to do that for a living.”

”I mean… Mashups aren’t that big of a deal if you know what you’re doing. You have to find stuff with the same chord progression and then you match them together and try to mix up the downbeats and remixes are all about picking the beat that you want the song to adhere to and it's really just window dressing from there.”

She shrugs.

”So… Anyone can do it, then?”

”I didn’t say that.”

Chloe smiles triumphantly at her.

”Ha! Exactly. You have to be brilliant to get to work with Ana Black. Oh, and did I mention music is my favorite thing in the world?”

"Are you in the music business too?"

She sighs.

"No. Not even close. I was in this acapella choir in college, it meant a lot to me. My life was all about music back then."

"You were in an acapella choir? On purpose?"

"Hey!"

Chloe shoves her lightly and Beca laughs.

"Sorry, dude. It sounds kind of lame."

"Aca-scuse me? It is NOT lame. If my best friend Aubrey heard you, she would consider violence. Acapella is her life."

"And she'll admit to that freely?"

"She would call you aca-awful, Beca, I’m warning you.”

”Wow. I can't believe that you would slaughter the English language that way.”

"Once, we sang backup for Prince. His butt is so tiny, I can fit it in one hand."

"Did I want to know that? Wait… Eh, no, TMI."

"Tough."

"Prince, huh. I guess you were pretty good."

"We were."

"I was talking about you."

"I was, for a while. Then I got nodes on my vocal cords, I had to step back."

"That's rough…"

"I had surgery, so I'm better now. I just can't go as high as I used to. Not that I sing much these days anyway."

She can hear herself, how sad she sounds.

"What do you do?"

"I'm not even sure how to answer that question. I work for my father. He's a great man and it's important work, but..."

"Why do I get the feeling that there are quotation marks around 'great man' here?"

"No, he is. It's just… I'm basically a glorified secretary and I kind of feel like I lost track of what I wanted to do and not just what my father wanted me to do and who he wanted me to be."

She has no idea why she's telling her life story to this pretty stranger, who for some reason seems to be interested, but it feels good to let it out. It's been weighing heavily on her lately.

"It's my own fault. I was a little confused about what I wanted to do in college. I focused so hard on the Bellas I failed some subjects because I didn't have time to study for them. Some I kind of failed on purpose…"

"Wow. Really? You failed college on purpose?"

Beca looks at her with raised eyebrows.

"I stayed on for three extra years because I couldn't face going back home."

"Three years? Dude… What did that make you? A super, super senior?"

"I probably shouldn't have majored in Russian Lit. But my father is a doctor and I didn't want to become a doctor too just because that's what he wanted. So I picked something that would show independence. And years later I'm a super senior who barely graduated and works for her father. So much for independence, huh?"

Beca takes her hand.

”Hey… I didn’t graduate at all. I dropped out of college after one semester."

”Yeah… But you work with Ana Black.”

”It’s more ’for’ than ’with’.”

Beca clears her throat.

"I could tell you something I've never told anyone else. My big deep, dark secret."

"Sure… If you feel comfortable with that, I'll be happy to listen."

"My dream job, the one I've been working toward since I was like, 15 years old… Well, I kind of hate it. Suckah is a talentless studio product and Ana Black's only working with him because she was young and inexperienced and signed a contract she didn't really understand. Whatever I do with this project will just be gilding a turd. This wasn't the kind of producer I wanted to be. One of the reasons I came here to drink was that I'm considering quitting and I needed some time to think."

She smiles a sad smile at Chloe.

"No clue why I'm telling you this, but maybe that'll make you feel better about your own job situation, since misery loves company."

Chloe squeezes Beca's hand.

"I'm really sorry to hear that, that must really suck."

She laughs.

”And yes. It does make me feel a little better.”

Beca grins at her.

”Me too.”

Chloe figures that was enough self-pity for one night. Time to change the subject.

She looks at their empty glasses and frowns.

”You’ve finished your drink…”

”Are you leaving? But there’s so much ground we haven’t covered. We could talk about my parents acrimonious divorce? Or maybe you have a fun childhood trauma to share?”

”Do you want to...change it up a little?”

”My trauma suggestion wasn’t change enough?”

”I was thinking more along the lines of more to drink, and that booth over there looks way more comfortable.”

”Actually, that sounds great.”

Beca comes back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She had been drinking Red Stripe when Chloe first saw her and the fact that she automatically deferred to Chloe’s choice of drink would have given her brownie points if this were a date. She has to remind herself that it isn’t. It's just time she spends with an attractive stranger who she met in a bar, had drinks with, held hands with, wearing her favorite date outfit and fuck-me heels. Nothing at all like a date...

She thought about the guy she’d been on a date with a few months ago who got her a ”craft beer” that she didn’t ask for and didn’t want and then proceeded to ”explain” craft beer, until she pretended to get a text from a hysterical Aubrey with an emergency, which was pretty much Aubrey’s regular state, so it could totally have happened.

She tries the wine. It's good: way better than the house white she had ordered. More brownie points. Just because it isn’t a date doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy herself and certain… date like qualities to the evening.

”I would totally have made you join the Bellas if you'd gone to Barden."

"How do you know I sing?"

"I'm not wrong, am I?"

"Maybe not…"

"After all those years in the Bellas, I'm pretty good at judging by someone's speaking voice if they can sing or not."

The soulless chain restaurant has a surprisingly good speaker system. When Miley Cyrus Party in the USA starts playing, she starts to hum along. She looks expectantly at Beca.

"Come on, let me hear what you've got?"

”In case you didn’t notice, we're in a bar, not at an acapella audition?”

But she can tell she wants to: Beca was probably one of those people where music was just under the surface, waiting to burst out. Chloe was exactly the same.

”I’m totally leaving if you don’t sing with me.”

”You are so not leaving.”

She keeps humming the song as she fakes getting up to leave. She can see Beca roll her eyes out of the corner of her own. Then she feels a warm hand around her wrist, pulling her back.

Beca falls in seamlessly and even though she's holding back, since she has a point that they were in a bar and not at acapella regionals, Chloe can tell she has a gorgeous voice.

”Wow, Beca… You can really sing. You should have been a Bella.”

”Eh, no way.”

”Oh, way.”

She ended up much closer to Beca when she sat back down. She could have moved back and created a more reasonable distance between them, but she doesn’t want to.

”You're lucky you’re so pretty. You need something to make up for that fact that you’re obviously insane. I should have made a run for it when you mentioned acapella.”

”Too late, we’re already friends.”

She smiles at Beca, who tries to keep a straight face before smiling back.

Chloe was learning that Beca used cutting sarcasm when she didn’t want to say what was on her mind. She probably wasn’t the easiest person to get close to. And still…she felt this intense connection with her.

They spent quite some time harmonizing to the playlist of unimaginative chart toppers to the annoyance of some of their fellow patrons that they proceeded to ignore. Their voices blended effortlessly, and Chloe realized how much she missed singing. Just as she suspected, Beca would have made a great Bella.

A few glasses in, they get talking about exes and Chloe finds herself hanging onto Beca's every word. She's dying to know what her type is. She talks about Tom, her college boyfriend and how he was sweet, but ultimately, she realized that he wasn't mature enough to be serious about them or anything really and how they worked better as friends. She doesn't mention how their sexlife always seemed to be missing something: it seems disloyal to tell a near stranger. She doesn't mention the string of Tinder dates either and how she's been using anonymous sex trying to cure the terrifying emptiness she'd been feeling lately. She doesn't understand it herself or why she keeps doing it even though it doesn't really work as validation.

”Well, for a few years after I moved here, there was Jesse. He was a really sweet guy, actually, wanted to be a film music composer. But it kind of fizzled out when he moved to LA. Then there was Keira. We broke up last year."

Chloe’s mouth is suddenly dry. She takes a swig of wine to try to digest what Beca told her. A girlfriend.

"I've always kind of regretted that I didn't experiment more in college."

"The acapella thing kept you from the youthful stupidity?"

"I didn't say that. Just… I wish I’d been bolder, I guess."

For the first time that night, no one talks for a few minutes. The silence feels heavy between them.

Chloe goes to the bathroom and sees Beca's face in a mirror on the way. She bites her lower lip and rakes her eyes up her body. She's staring at her legs, or maybe her ass. Chloe puts some extra movement in her hips, just in case. She hoped she had been staring at her ass. She's no longer able to lie to herself about where she wants this evening to go.

When she sits back down, she ends up close to Beca and does nothing to rectify that.  
Beca leans in when she’s pouring them more wine. Chloe touches the collar of her leather jacket.

”Soft…”

She lets her hand slide down the lapel, brushing Beca’s neck with the back of her hand.

”The jacket, I mean.”

Beca takes a deep swig of wine and clears her throat.

”Of course.”

It was a feeble excuse to touch Beca, and she probably knows that. But Chloe kind of wants her to.

A tall, leggy blonde walks in and turns heads as she walks to the bar. Chloe sighs in faux disappointment.

”I guess I don’t have to worry about unwanted attention anymore.”

Beca shakes her head, almost annoyed.

”She’s not the most attractive woman in here.”

She clears her throat and won’t look Chloe in the eyes when she says ”you are”.

”Really…?”

”Dude, yeah.”

”She’s not my type either.”

Beca’s face changes when the implication of what she said sinks in.

”What is your type?”

She’s tempted to answer ”you”. She has only slept with a woman once before, in college, and it had been more out of curiosity and too much tequila than out of true attraction. It had been fine, if a little awkward and fumbly, but nothing that made her truly question her sexuality. She had been attracted to women a few times since and had been meaning to explore it but couldn’t face adding another messy variable on Tinder. But the attraction she feels to Beca is surprisingly strong.

Chloe is normally quite confident about herself in dating situations. Or at least she was, before graduating into her father's glorified secretary, working too much and socializing too little and suffering through a string of bad Tinder dates. But there's something about Beca that makes it important what she thinks of her. She recognizes the feeling, even though she hasn't had it in a long time: Beca isn't just some Tinder date that she can have sex with for temporary validation. There's a connection here.

”I don’t know… But I prefer dark to blonde.”

She catches a strand of Beca’s hair and plays with it.

”I’m a sucker for a good singing voice.”

She covers Beca’s hand with her own. She slides her thumb over her knuckles and entangles their fingers when Beca doesn’t pull back.

”And I’m really into sarcasm.”

”If you add ’awkward loner’ to that, it might be love.”

”It might…”

Beca leans in and Chloe can feel her breath on her lips, but she seems to wait for Chloe to make the decision. So, she does. It's soft at first, Beca is being really gentle with her. She becomes weak in the knees with how good it is. Beca's an amazing kisser.

She looks Beca in the eyes when they break apart and they're almost black. Her cheeks blush red. She sees the same desire she’s feeling. They kiss again and it’s not soft anymore. It’s hot and deep and totally inappropriate for the surroundings.  
She slips her hand under the soft material of Beca’s shirt. Her skin is warm and much softer than she’s used to. Beca’s hand moves up her inner thigh and gradually, it turns into the kind of kiss you don’t share in public and she’s vaguely aware of that, but she can’t help herself. It’s been ages since someone made her feel like this. She’s drunk on the feel and scent of Beca.

"Last orders, so can I get you ladies… Oh, sorry."

The young waiter looks mortally embarrassed. Apparently, this section has table service.

"Thanks, but we're good."

He looks immensely relieved at Beca's reply and shuffles off.

Beca brushes her thumb along Chloe's lower lip and she realizes her red lipstick must be smudged. Even that gesture turns her on. Chloe kisses the palm of Beca's hand and brushes the soft skin with her tongue. Beca's breath catches, so she does it again.

”Did you say this place is on your way home?”

”Yeah.”

”So...”

Beca stares at her for a moment before rolling her eyes at herself. She clears her throat.

”Do you want to get out of here?”

”We probably should, don’t you think? Before they throw us out.”

”Yeah…”

When they get up, her skin is touchwarm and her underwear chafes her oversenzitised skin.

On the walk back to Beca's place, she thinks about how she loves holding her hand. It isn’t just a means to an end, a way to keep track of each other, it’s this lovely thing in itself.

In one of the streets, there's a little protected nook, a wall with the last tea roses of fall and a tiny bench. Beca drags her into the little corner and pushes her up against the wall.

”Sorry, I really want to kiss you again.”

"I'm glad Tad didn't show up," Chloe mumbles against Beca's lips.

”Fuck Tad.”

”I’d rather fuck you.”

”Eh, forward.”

”Do you mind?”

”Dude… No."

”Maybe not call me ’dude’ if we’re going to do this?” Chloe whispers, barely breaking away from Beca's lips long enough to say it.

”Oh, we’re so going to do this…”

Beca kisses her way down her neck and Chloe looks at the clear sky, bright with stars, over her shoulder and feels really alive for the first time in longer than she can count.

***

Chloe looks around and smiles. Beca's apartment is tiny, which explains how she can afford this address. It's adorable, though.

"There used to be two of us. Amy used to live here with me."

"Girlfriend?"

Chloe tells herself to dial it down a notch. She hears the jealous tone in her voice.

"Roommate."

"I like it. There's a lot of things I see that I like," she says and looks into Beca's eyes.

Chloe steps into her personal space and Beca sneaks her arms around her waist. She starts to feel her nerves a little. The edge of Beca's bed is pressed against her calves, which makes it feel very real. She's going to bed with this beautiful girl in her bijou turquoise-walled walkup. This is who she is now: someone who sleeps with women who pick her up in bars. But she likes this version of herself.

”You have the most amazing eyes; do you know that? How is it even possible they’re that color?”

Beca traces her cheekbones and her jawline with the tips of her fingers as she looks into her eyes. Chloe’s only known this woman for a few hours, but she feels… adored.

Chloe could feel it from the start, perched on those uncomfortable bar stools with a respectable distance between them: a thirst to feel her skin against her own. A form of magnetism.

The kiss deepens and Beca shrugs her jacket off and leaves it on the floor with a practiced roll of her shoulders. She fumbles a little before she finds the zipper for Chloe's dress. Chloe doesn't let it fall: she feels she's at a disadvantage. She starts unbuttoning Beca's shirt when Beca stops her.

”So, we’re at the part where I wish I hadn’t worn my house bra to work.”

”House bra?”

”That I normally wear for staying in, not to work. Laundry day kind of came and went.”

”Then this is the part where I tell you I’m more interested in the contents than the packaging.”

Beca lets her continue and Chloe pushes the soft fabric to the side and kisses the curve of her breast. She relaxes and lets her dress join Beca's leather jacket on the floor.

"Beca?"

"Yeah?"

"I haven't really… Well, I have but it was in college and I was kind of drunk, so it wasn't exactly… memorable."

"I had some unmemorable sex in college too."

Beca steps back and creates some distance between them.

"We can take it slow if you want, or if you want to stop at just kissing, that's totally fine, I…"

"Beca?"

"Yeah?"

"I really don't want to take it slow. Or stop at kissing."

"Really? You’re sure?”

”Totes.”

She is. She hasn’t been this sure about anything in a long time and she relishes the feeling. She gets the whole "consent is sexy" thing. It's a huge turn-on that Beca's so invested in her comfort and welfare. She pulls her close and kisses her with all that she's got, to prove her point. Beca lets out a soft sound and buries her hand in her hair and Chloe's heart races.

Unlike Beca, she's in her dating bra, not her house bra. She doesn't have to ask if Beca appreciates the effort when she caresses her body with her eyes as well as her hands. When she cups her ass, she feels the warmth of her skin through the sheer lace.

Chloe loves the look on Beca’s face as she unclasps her bra. Curiously, she traces Beca's cherry blossoms with the tips of her fingers. She kisses her hard nipple through the fabric before she pulls it down and touches it with the tip of her tongue. Beca groans softly as she takes it in her mouth. Touching a woman's breast is way sexier than Chloe remembers. Touching a woman in general is way sexier than she remembers, for that matter. Chloe pushes Beca’s jeans down her hips and lingers with her hands. Beca is surprisingly curvy for such a small woman. Her underwear is plain black cotton, riding low on her hips. It doesn't make it any less sexy: it suits her.

Chloe impatiently undoes her own bra. She's desperate for more skin-to-skin contact. Beca looks into her eyes for consent, before she slides Chloe's underwear down her hips.  
Beca brushes her fingers against her sex and Chloe realizes she's soaked for her. She smiles as she moves the tips of her fingers through the slick heat and bites her lip. Beca doesn't say anything, but Chloe can tell she likes how aroused she's made her.

They end up on the edge of the bed. Gently, Beca pushes her back against the mattress. Chloe sighs when Beca lowers herself down in the cradle of her thighs. She puts her hand in the small of her back and pull her closer, impatiently grinding against her. The feeling of her slick sex against her lover's is incredible. They kiss breathlessly, roughly. Their ragged breathing sounds loud in the quiet room.

Chloe's heart races when Beca kisses a long detour on the way to her inner thigh. She stops and looks at her. Chloe feels vulnerable and exposed, but mostly desired. Beca has that effect on her. Beca groans and leans her head against Chloe's knee.

"God Chloe… You look so good like this."

Arousal blooms hot in her belly at the sound of desire in Beca's breathless voice. Chloe's skin feels hypersensitive wherever Beca touches her. Her lips and tongue are warm and soft and Chloe's so ready for her. She feels like crying from gratitude as she licks her way up to her swollen clit, lips already slippery with her arousal. She swirls her tongue around her, and it feels so good she has to press her face into the pillow not to scream.

"Good?"

"So good, baby…"

The endearment just slips out. Chloe didn't know someone could make her this helpless against her own desire. She loves how Beca takes her hand and squeezes it. She keeps holding it, resting on Chloe's hip. It makes her feel grounded. She loses track of time as Beca licks her slowly, almost unbearably gently and she’s so turned on it’s almost painful. She can feel her own arousal trickling down her inner thigh and onto the sheet.

”Beca…? Please let me come, I'm so close.”

Beca looks up at her, lips shimmering with her arousal.

”Please…”

Beca relents and sucks her clit into her mouth and whirls her tongue around the hard nub. She can feel the orgasm building way before it comes, a little coil tightening in her lower belly, just beyond her reach, but Beca increases pressure and she feels how she floods her mouth when she pushes her tongue into her. She goes over the edge with something akin to a sob, squeezing Beca’s hand way too hard.

Beca waits a second, maybe two.

”Do you want me to go on?”

To her surprise, she wants her to.

”Yes.”

Her voice is hoarse and ragged.

She thinks she might be too sensitive when Beca presses her lips against her sex again, but she isn't. Her body wants this, even if the sensation is almost overwhelming. The second orgasm is so intense, she forgets to breathe and has to draw breath like a drowning woman. She doesn't think she's ever come that hard with a partner.

She feels the chemicals of satiety and extreme well-being pumping through her system as she kisses Beca in gratitude. Her body feels almost bonelessly heavy.

”That was so hot…”

Some of her former lovers considered that activity a chore, but Beca’s enthusiasm seemed to be real.

”Really…?

"I've missed doing it. My ex didn't enjoy it.”

"How can anyone not enjoy that? Your tongue is magical…”

”Yeah?”

”Mmmhm.”

”So, it...felt good?”

”I think you know the answer to that.”

Beca smiles again. It’s a weird mixture of awkward and cocky: Chloe’s learning that’s trademark Beca.

Her face changes, and she's serious when she looks at Chloe. She kisses her again, and again. Chloe feels the urgency behind it. Beca must be dying to come: it wasn't just making out in the privacy of the booth, it felt like the rest of the evening had been foreplay too. It felt like everything they did and said lead them here.

She tries to think of what she likes herself, how she likes to be touched. She knows it’s not that easy: she doesn’t just want to do this, she wants to excel at it. Chloe knows she has a competitive streak and there’s no reason why this can’t be a competition, even if it’s just with herself.

”Tell me if I do something you don’t like?”

Beca nods as she slides a hand down to cup her warm sex. Beca gasps and arches impatiently into the touch. She feels her tremble underneath her, muscles tense she grinds against the heel of her hand. She's hot and tight as she pushes into her. She flexes her fingers and hears Beca moan softly. It doesn't take much, just moving against her soft walls for her breath to become heavy and erratic. She changes the angle and looks for a reaction, sensing that it's not quite enough. Beca stiffens and looks at her, eyes wide open. So, this was how she liked it. She keeps the pressure up while kissing her breasts and her neck and back up to her mouth, certain she can feel Beca's body racing toward orgasm under her touch. When she becomes louder and her knuckles are whitefisting the sheet, Chloe bends her head down and takes her nipple in her mouth and sucks it, hard.  
She presses the heel of her hand against Beca’s clit and watches her close her eyes and throw her head back. She tries curling her fingers inside her and it reduces her to a trembling mess before she falls over the edge. Chloe's hand is covered in her arousal. She slips her tongue out to taste it: it's alien and familiar at the same time.  
She almost can't believe she's done this, made Beca come undone like this. Watching another woman come was unbelievably hot. Or maybe it’s because it’s Beca.

Beca's this tiny, fragile thing, all silky soft skin and fine limbs, nothing at all like what Chloe is used to in a lover. Still, she feels so safe in her arms. Chloe isn't used to that in a lover either.  
And she isn’t used to staying. Somewhere along the line, she stopped spending the night with hookups or temporary flings. It just wasn’t worth it spending a restless night in some guy’s stuffy bedroom, usually on unwashed sheets, for some awkward morning conversation before they were both relieved to see Chloe go, even if they exchanged numbers or false promises to keep in touch. She had no idea how or when she had become so emotionally guarded.

But she desperately wanted to stay with Beca. So, when she rolls over and opens her arms, Chloe buries her face in her neck and aligns herself to Beca’s side and relaxes.

***

She sleeps restlessly, as always in strangers’ beds. As she slips in and out of sleep, she feels Beca close to her and the calming effect she has on her.

"You OK?"

Beca mumbles it half awake, reaching out for her.

"I'm fine."

Beca curls up against her and strokes her back soothingly. Just before she drifts back to sleep, Chloe thinks that in a perfect world, every night would be this night.

***  
She wakes up from the pain in her shoulder. Beca's been sleeping on it for quite some time, judging by the pins and needles. She yawns when she stirs, stretches and rolls off of her. Chloe gratefully flexes her fingers.

"Hey."

"Hi…"

They smile at each other.

Beca her leans her chin against her sternum and traces something with the tips of her fingers.

"These freckles… they're insanely cute."

She looks up at her.

"I have a confession to make."

"Uh-uh."

"I didn't really need you to keep me company to fend off guys last night, I just… wanted you from the first moment I saw you and had to find an excuse to make you stay. Is that terrible?"

Chloe puts a mock frown on her face.

"Oh, totally. You're awful, Beca Mitchell."

She pulled her back up and kissed her.

"Do you want to know what I thought?"

"Uh-uh."

"Super cute, I noticed you right away."

"Oh, nooo. Not cute, you'll ruin my streetcred!"

"I mean, I walked in there to meet a guy and left with you, so you obviously did something right."

"You mean like… Show up?"

"Would you have hit on me even if that guy had turned up?"

"Oh, definitely. Game on. I couldn't let you sleep with someone called "Tad”; it wouldn't feel right.”

***

Beca’s making toast when Chloe comes out of the bathroom.

”Sorry if you expected pancakes or bacon or some other grown up choice. This is literally all the food choices available, work has been crazy, no time for grocery shopping. Also, I can’t cook. As in really can’t cook.”

She pours them coffee and Chloe take the cup gratefully.

”Let me guess: you can. You seem like the type.”

Chloe walks over to her and wraps her arms around her waist.

”Yeah, kind of. I didn’t know that was a ’type’”

She leans in and kisses Beca softly. It’s deeply gratifying how Beca lets out a little sigh when she does and pulls her closer. When she’s with Beca, she feels irresistible.

”Tell me more about what type I am…” she mumbles against Beca’s lips, kissing her again.

”My type.”

”Mmm? What’s your type?”

”Smart, funny, gorgeous, weird. Great kisser, enjoys making a public nuisance of herself singing chart toppers in bars when it’s not karaoke night. And looks incredible naked. Like, damn, Chloe...”

”Weird?”

”That was your takeaway from that? You totally are. So weird.”

Beca moves in closer.

”I really like that about you.”

Chloe adores the earnest look on her face when she says it.

”I really like you too.”

She means it. She already likes Beca so much, it’s a little scary. It’s not just the mind-blowing sex, it’s...everything.

She can see that Beca is suddenly uncomfortable, the veneer of cocky sarcasm and confidence gone.

"Do you think this might be… More than a one-night thing? Like, we might have stumbled over something real here?"

Chloe takes a deep breath and nods.

"Yeah… I think we might have."

They eat toast from the same plate curled up together on the couch, Chloe’s legs over Beca’s lap and Beca’s free hand drawing soft circles on her naked thigh.

After breakfast, Beca makes her slide forward to the edge of the worn couch as she kneels and eases her borrowed sweatpants down her hips. Chloe gasps as Beca pushes her tongue into her until she comes loudly and messily against her lips. Beca makes a cheesy joke about dessert. Chloe loves the playfulness and ease between, like they've known each other for ages.  
She loves how Beca's cheeks blush scarlet and her eyes grow dark as Chloe says it's her turn and she pushes Beca back against the turquoise fabric and experimentally runs her flat tongue along her folds. It's insanely hot to feel her essence on her tongue and Beca's helpless moaning tells her she's good at it for a rookie. Chloe remembers the sense of triumph the first time they won the regional acapella championships. This is better.

***

She texts her on her way home. Maybe it's too soon, but she has a feeling she doesn't have to play games with Beca. Having her number feels like a subtle form of magic.

 _Hi_ 😊

_Hey_

_I’m really glad you picked me up yesterday_ 😘

_one of my better ideas_

_Look forward to Tues!_ 💖

_Especially tuesday night_

Chloe stops for coffee and doesn’t respond right away. When she looks at her phone, there’s another message from Beca.

_Sorry didnt mean to make assumptions about tues we can just hang out if you prefer_

Chloe gets all warm inside. Beca picks her up in a bar and they have, hot, sweaty, incredible sex and here Beca is, all sweet and polite and anxious about making assumptions about their next date. She’s falling for this woman so hard; she knows she should be careful.

 _We could, but that would be kind of disappointing considering how good last night was, don’t you think?_ 😉 _And this morning..._

_It was pretty awesome_

When Chloe was about to put her phone away, it pinged again.

_Cant stop thinking about you_

Chloe tapes the reply with a huge smile on her face.

 _Same_ 💖😘

***

The beautiful buzz from the weekend is still there Monday morning, even though she usually dreads the working week starting again. There are subtle marks on her body from what happened with Beca and not so subtle ones on her mind. Her new lover texted her last night to say goodnight and it made her all soft inside. She skips her usual scroll through the newspaper headlines and thinks about Beca instead as she has her morning coffee. She doesn't want her mellow mood ruined by war and politics.

That's why she has no clue her when she arrives at work and finds reporters outside.

***

Tuesday is a horrible, terrible morning, like all mornings of the week when her father the ”great man” and world leading fertility expert is revealed to be a monster who has used his own semen to impregnate god knows how many women at the upscale fertility clinic he’s founded to international accolades. The clinic fills up with people who come in for the free DNA tests they’re offering, that are likely precursors to lawsuits and compensation claims. She tries to hide her curiosity: some of these people might be her siblings.

She has no memory of telling Beca the address to her workplace, but her stomach fills with butterflies as her lover walks in.

"Beca… Hi…"

Beca stops dead in her tracks and stares at her.

"Chloe? What are you doing here?"

She’s not sure if Beca’s joking or not.

"I work here."

Chloe's shocked to see Beca tearing up.

”Is Julius Bechley… your father?"

"Yeah. Bec, why are you…"

She slaps her hand over her mouth in horror and stares at Beca.

"Oh, please, no."

But she already knows what Beca's going to say.

"My mother had fertility treatments in this clinic. I'm here for a DNA test."

Chloe pulls her into a private room. She doesn't normally do any of this, they have technicians for that. But she wants to make sure everything is done absolutely right. Neither of them speaks, apart from Chloe's short request for Beca to open her mouth.

Her hands tremble as she closes the envelope with the swab and the form to send to the lab.

"You're probably not one of them, so…

"I really need that to be true."

"Yeah… Me too."

She knows she should stop talking, but she tends to babble when she's nervous.

"After all, it's not like my father..."

"Kind of raped a bunch of people who came here by secretly impregnating them with his sperm, against their will?"

It hurt. She knew it was more or less true, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt when put so bluntly.

Beca puts her hand on her shoulder. It feels good. Warm and comforting. She has that effect on her.

"Hey… I'm sorry, that was over the line."

Beca rubs her thumb over her collar bone soothingly. Then it's like she sees what she's doing in this terrible new light and pulls her hand back like something bit her.

Chloe takes a shuddery breath.

"This is… Unbelievably awful, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It really is."

They don't know how to behave. They stand there staring awkwardly at each other until Chloe gives in and pulls her close. She’s holding her too tight, she knows that. It’s not like Beca’s dying or leaving forever. But Beca's hold on her is just as desperate.

Chloe feels like she’s lost something precious when she leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Beca deal with the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you really hated the cliffhanger... Lesbihonest, it's going to be a bumpy ride in the final chapter, but this really is what it says on the tin: angst with a happy ending. Have faith, pitches!

She gets the results just after lunch two days later and her hands tremble when she opens the envelope.

30 seconds later, she's throwing up her lunch in the staff bathroom after seeing the _DNA match confirmed_ at the bottom of Beca's paperwork. Beca Mitchell, her half-sister.

She doesn't quite know how to tell Beca, so she keeps it simple. She texts her a picture of the paperwork with a simple _I'm really sorry_.

_So i guess date night is off_

Chloe feels sick when she looks at the screen. How can Beca be so glib about this?

Ten minutes later, there’s another text.

_Urgh im sorry that wasnt funny i just have no fucking clue how to handle this_

_I don't either. It's just awful._

_Yeah_

***

They exchange some texts over the next few weeks, but Chloe senses that none of them knows what to say, so they're few and far apart. Beca has to leave town on work related business for a few weeks, which is probably just as well. Chloe thinks about her every minute, or it feels that way, at least.

Her father is a monster and some form of rapist and still seems to think he's done his clients a service. She can hardly look him in the eyes and she'll definitely never look at him the same way again. She confronts him about Beca and for the first time in her life, she hates him when he says it's unfortunate, but no harm done since it's not like she's pregnant. He goes on to ask about Beca and says he's happy to meet up with her if she has any questions. Chloe yells at him that she has questions: like how the hell could he do something like that?

When she leaves, she thinks about how he's not even interested enough in her life to express surprise that she had a female lover.

So, she buries herself in work and avoids him, along with the aggressive reporters knocking on their door. And she misses Beca like oxygen. She had no idea that you could bond with someone that hard or that quick.

***

A month after the DNA test, she gets a text.

_Are we being ridiculous ? Let's be real we should be able to hang out like functioning adults right_

Chloe misses her. So much. So, she jumps at the chance, even though she’s pretty sure it’ll be hard.

_Yes! We totes should, absolutely! We can do this_ 😊

***

Chloe tells herself her focus on her appearance is fine. She likes to look good when she goes out and Beca is her new sister, so why shouldn't she want to look good for her family? She puts on bright red lipstick and wipes it off again. Ten minutes later, it’s back on. She tells herself she should go for jeans and a t-shirt, something simple that doesn’t say date night, since this is definitely not that. She hates herself a little when she picks out a short skirt and nice top instead.  
Last minute, she runs back in the bathroom and puts perfume on, the one Beca said she liked. The feelings of shame and excitement are battling for dominance as she walks out the door.

Beca's already there when she arrives, and Chloe knows that must mean she was early on purpose. She’s wearing the leather jacket again. Chloe remembers how buttery soft it felt. Her midnight blue shirt looks like it’s silk and her gorgeous heeled boots are new, judging by the pristine condition of the black leather and the silvery stud decorations. Her heavy black eyeliner makes her eyes look huge. She looks so good she takes Chloe’s breath away. She's relieved she's not the only one who went all-in, but she also realizes this will be even harder than she thought.

There's an awkward moment when they try to decide if they should hug or not. They do, but quickly, casually like you're supposed to with a friend. Chloe still notices how good Beca feels.  
They busy themselves with ordering drinks, since none of them seem to know how to start a conversation under these circumstances.

Beca ask if Chloe wants to go sit somewhere more comfortable than the bar, but then they both glance at the tucked-away, private tables and Chloe says she's fine here. She doesn't want to know how hard it will be to sit that close to Beca.

"So… Sisters, huh?"

"I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"It must be hard for you. Knowing you have what… hundreds of brothers and sisters?"

Chloe makes a face.

"I really shouldn't make this about me… But yeah, it's been pretty bad. How do you feel about all of this?"

Beca shrugs. She won't look at her when she speaks.

"Honestly, I don't know. I hadn't really thought that much about who my biological father might be. But sure, the circumstances could have been better."

"Beca… It's OK to be angry, you know."

When Beca looks up, it's not anger she sees on her face.

"I'm just sorry we missed date night."

Beca has taken the elephant in the room by the trunk and led it right up to the bar. Normally, Chloe is a big fan of talking about things instead of keeping them inside. But it would make her so sad to talk about it, she isn't sure she can do it.

"Maybe we should avoid that subject."

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry… This is hard to navigate."

Beca puts her hand over Chloe's. She doesn't seem to be conscious of what she's doing.  
Her touch is… Chloe can't believe how just touching someone's hand can make you feel this… shattered. All it takes is for Beca to touch her and she’s helplessly drawn to her. Beca stops talking. Slowly, her eyes drop to their hands. She moves her thumb over Chloe's knuckles. Breathing becomes a conscious thing: something you have to make an effort to do. Desperately, Chloe thinks that maybe it's not so bad, Beca's just her half-sister…

When Beca leans in, she moves to meet her and feels her breath on her lips before realizing with a jolt what's happening.

"Oh my god. Beca, we can't."

Beca swears under her breath and yanks her hand back.

"I know, I'm sorry. Shit… You're totally right."

She smiles a brittle smile.

"Who would have thought incest would suddenly seem like a good idea, huh?"

"Can we not use the 'I' word, please? Things are bad enough as they are."

"Sorry, bad joke."

Beca toys with her cocktail napkin. Chloe pretends to check her phone. She also pretends her heart isn't racing.

"Have to go to the bathroom," Beca mumbles as she gets up.

Chloe's grateful for the reprieve.

"Damn it."

She's not a sweary person. But if having a crush on your sister doesn't warrant foul language, she doesn't know what does. It's perfectly obvious that she still does.

She realizes after about ten minutes that Beca's not coming back.

_I can't believe you did that._

_I had to im sorry its all kinds of wrong but I still want you didnt know what else to do_

She rereads the text over and over. I still want you. She feels Beca's words in her belly and deep under her skin.

_We probably shouldn't meet again?_

It's insane that a small part of her wants Beca to object. She jumps at the ping from the phone, even though she expected Beca's answer.

_Probably not_

She stares at the screen. It's insane that she's disappointed. It was her suggestion and pining romantically for your sister... wanting her... is unbelievably gross and she should be disgusted by herself.

A few minutes later, she hears the ping again.

_Ill miss you_

"Me too," she whispers to Beca's empty stool, still warm from her body heat.

***

Beca walks home through the city trying to force the images of Chloe out of her head. But they were always there, ever since that first night. Especially now, when she desperately tried not to think about them. She still remembers exactly how she felt the first time she saw her.

Maybe Chloe wasn’t the prettiest girl she’s ever seen, maybe it just seemed like it when she walked in and Beca felt like she was falling. She desperately tried not to stare when she sat down alone and pretended not to be bothered by it. She was about to leave this soulless bar filled with people she would probably hate when the girl walked in, but now she had to talk to her. She didn’t normally talk to strangers in bars, or anywhere really. As successful as she is on the outside, Beca Mitchell knew she was the same awkward snarky loner deep down.

The redhead seemed to be immersed in something on her phone, or probably pretended to be to dissuade strangers from talking to her. People like me, she thought wryly as she stole glances at her face as she read. She had amazing eyes: a vibrant cerulean blue and the little concerned crease on her forehead was totally adorable.

Beca wasn't really religious, but maybe she was tonight, since she thanked all sorts of gods for making Chloe’s Tinder date not show up and give her a natural conversation starter. It was literally incomprehensible to Beca how someone could be shown a picture of Chloe Bechley and pass up the chance to meet her. ”Tad” must be dead in a ditch somewhere, that was the only reasonable explanation.

If it at least had been bad sex… But she doesn't remember anyone turning her on the way Chloe did. Being touched by her had been the most intensely erotic experience of Beca's life. And the way she wanted to hold her after: that didn't normally happen for Beca, she wasn't a cuddly person. Hell, she wanted to hold her even now, in the middle of this terrible, awful mess.

What had happened if she'd found out before she met Chloe for the first time? Maybe she'd made the observation that she had a gorgeous, warm and friendly sister and left it at that.  
She would have done anything not to know what it was like to kiss her, feel her skin against her own. Not to know what she sounded like when she came and how angelic she looked when she slept, long lashes making thin, fine shadows on her cheek, red hair like a halo against Beca's grey pillowcase. They could have been friends. Proper sisters, even. But you can't ever go back from knowing what your sister looks like right after sex. With you.

The worst part was that she liked her. She'd known her for a few weeks, but she already knew that she liked her more than almost anyone. The night they met had been one of the best of her life. She knew Chloe could have been important to her. And now they would never get a chance, either as lovers or sisters. If fate had decided to play a trick on her, it couldn’t have found a crueler one.

She cries silently walking home.

***

That night, she has a dream where she walks into the Bechley clinic and Chloe comes to meet her. They kiss, even though Beca remembers she's her sister even in that reality. When they break the kiss, she looks to the side and there's a crowd, disgust clearly painted on their faces. They whisper and point. Horrified, Beca realizes she's naked. Chloe cradles her face in her hands and says everything's OK. Beca knows it's not.  
She wakes up with a start and tries to calm her racing heart in the dark, quiet room. She feels unpleasantly clammy and from her aching jaw she guesses she's clenched it during sleep. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is how her body responded to the imaginary kiss. Her lips are warm, her nipples hard and there's a throbbing deep in her belly. Just like the real Chloe made her feel. Self-loathing and arousal have become so intrinsically connected for her she wasn't even sure which is the principal feeling.

***

Beca doesn’t remember when she stopped showering. She just sees Amy make a face when she shows up, uninvited as usual, and pulls back a little. She doesn’t know the answer when Amy asks when she last had a bath. She feels a little better when she makes her clean up and put clothes rather than ratty sleeping shorts on. But not much. She knows she's is totally right when she says this has been going on for too long, it’s not reasonable to be this devastated over a failed one-night stand.

That’s when she breaks down and tell her what Chloe really is to her. Amy’s shocked, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish. She holds her when she cries and for once, Beca doesn’t have the energy to object to Amy's special brand of hugging.

She makes them manicure appointments for the next day and forces Beca to take a day off. Like a fresh coat of nail polish would make her heart any less broken. But Amy’s right: she can’t go on like this, she has to start living again. Without Chloe, which is ironic since Beca felt really alive for the first time in ages when she met her. She glances at her phone and moves it even further away, to a safe distance from herself. She hasn’t deleted her number; she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Every night is the same embarrassing addict’s struggle: scroll down her contacts, find her name, hover above it with her finger before coming to her senses. What would they talk about? How Beca could still taste her on her tongue, months later? How she missed her sister’s lips against her own? How hard she had fallen for the only woman she could never have?

The next night Beca cradles her head in her soft, newly manicured hands with a pretty, shiny dark grey nail polish (she picked a somber color to match her mood) and cries as she happens to scroll past the Great British Baking Show, that Chloe inexplicably loved and had gushed about during their first night together. Beca had no idea why you'd want to watch a bunch of British people bake cakes for an hour, but she'd found it strangely endearing that Chloe did, like so many things she had learned about her. So here she was, watching British people bake and crying into a cup of herbal tea that she vainly hoped would help her sleep. It didn't.

***

Chloe’s wearing too much makeup, she can see it in the bright lights of the restaurant mirror. Her heels are chafing, she shouldn’t have worn them. She tries so hard to be OK, sometimes she tries too much. The dress is a bit much too, it’s a simple Italian joint.  
The guy she’s meeting up with is nice. Jake is a ginger too and they’ve exchanged jokes about having red hair and Buzzfeed lists with things people say to gingers. It’s a nice date. Nice is the best she can do these days. Nothing really gets her excited. It should have been a woman. Being with Beca has made her seriously question her sexual orientation. Whatever they had together, that was her sexuality. But she couldn’t face it. Men are easier. Predictable.  
She likes how Jake sounds a little apologetic when he says he’s a salesman. He seems to be far from what he was originally aiming for and she totally gets that, she’s in the same position.  
He’s not the most exciting guy on earth, but maybe she’s not that exciting either anymore. She’d felt exciting around Beca. Special. She just can’t find that feeling again.  
She says yes to going home with him and tries to convince herself that she can do this, that she was over Beca. But when he kisses her waiting for the cab, she felt nothing. When he tries to pull her closer, she remembers how Beca touched her and recoils. The worst part when she pushes him away is his sad puppy dog eyes and the sigh, saying that this is just one more in a long line of disappointments. When she said she's sorry, but she isn’t over her ex yet, he doesn’t bother to object: it had been obvious she wasn’t into him.

Walking home, she picks her phone up and stares at Beca’s number until she bumps into a garbage collector and has to apologize. She puts the phone away in the little zipped pocket of her handbag, the one she never uses, just to be safe. When she gets home, she presses down on the Tinder icon until it starts shaking and clicks the little x in the corner. If it can't be Beca, she'd rather not be touched at all.

***

Chloe decided to get sushi on her way home from work one day since she was exhausted and listless and didn’t even want to think about cooking. There was another woman waiting for her order when she got there. She was taller than Beca and had bangs. Her eyes were brown, not blue. But still, there was more than a fleeting resemblance. They strike up a conversation and proxy Beca is nice enough and everything is fine until Chloe suddenly hears herself and how there’s a flirty tone in her voice. She’s leaning in when she’s talking, and she’s taken a step closer since the conversation started. The woman seems oblivious, but Chloe feels a wave of self-loathing wash over her. What the hell is she doing? Trying to pick some Beca lookalike up to erase her lover and sister from her mind and body? Not for the first time in her life, she was grateful that people couldn’t read minds. She tried to keep her voice neutral when the woman told her goodbye as she left with her order.  
Now and then, she’s convinced she’s on the right track, putting it behind her and then something happens to make it all come crashing down. She spent the night on the couch, crying through half a season of Pretty Little Liars. She writes a text to Beca but erases it. She does that a lot.

***

Beca doesn't hear from her for months. She gets used to it, gets used to her lackluster world. She spends most of her time working and mostly hating what she's producing. She tells Amy it's the winter weather that gets to her and the situation at work and that she's not thinking about her sister anymore. She promises she's eating and showering, which is true. Sometimes. Chloe's always there in the back of her mind, reminding her of what she lost, or what she might have had.

When the phone pings one day and she sees her name, her heart starts to hammer in her chest. Her reaction is always the same: fear and elation. Fear, because maybe there's some way this horrible situation can get worse: texts from Chloe haven't meant good news lately. Elation because any tiny connection was better than none and hearing from her made it feel less like Chloe had died and left her alone in this world.

_Hi._

_Didnt expect to hear from you_

_I know._

_How are you ?_

_The gorgeous brunette on IG. Is she your girlfriend? Are you dating her?_

_What girl_

_Can you answer my question, please?_

Beca scrolls through her photos and sees it: the picture of the tall brunette smiling and bending down to kiss her and get red lipstick all over her cheek. It was Amy who'd called in the cavalry to cheer Beca up.

_Stacie's the only friend I made during my one semester of college not dating her_

_OK._

There's nothing for a few minutes, then her phone pings again.

_I'm sorry._

_We decide not to see each other and you IG stalk me ?_

_I didn't mean to. It kind of just happened._

_Should probably block your number. Cant do this_

Beca's crying as she types it. Blocking Chloe is the last thing she wants, but it hurts too much to hear from her like this, out of the blue. She sounded jealous. Like she wasn't over Beca either, which made everything harder.

_Don't_ 😢 _I'll be good. I like knowing you're out there._

_Im not though_

_I know._

She doesn't block her. Who is she kidding? Keeping her number was the one thing that kept her from reaching out to her, weirdly. If she blocked her, she might lose it and show up at that fucking rape clinic again, just to see her. Or google her address and wait on the stairs of her building in that way that's kind of cute when your lover does it, or someone you want to be your lover. And would be really fucking creepy if it was the sister you accidentally slept with, who suddenly decided to show up uninvited on your doorstep.  
Beca wonders if her mind and her heart will ever not feel like a garbage fire again.

***

Not for the first time, it occurs to Chloe that her new brothers and sisters don't look like her. This girl looks more like Beca, with her dark hair and dark eyes. She's almost the same height as her too. Chloe's far from tall, but it still took Beca in heels to catch up with her. The other day, a guy called Henry had walked in to collect his DNA match paperwork. He was the same: short, dark hair, intense gaze. As he walked away, there had been something about his body language that reminded her of Beca. But no redheads. There weren't any redheads on her mother's side either. She shrugged. She was obviously an anomaly.

She doesn't even react when her father's protege the young fertility specialist asks her for a DNA sample. He says it's to increase the genetic certainties of the matches they get. Sure, she's had the feeling that he's been looking at her strangely, but there's so much going on, it barely registers. She's her father's daughter, it makes sense that her DNA is important.

Or not, as it turns out.

When the young doctor says that he noticed when he asked doctor Bechley how the dates didn't add up, it's like she doesn't hear what he's saying. There's a roaring in her ears and she thinks she can hear her heart slamming against her ribcage. She knew she was older than most of her new siblings. Older than Beca… But she never really counted the months.

The young doctor says that as a friend, he thought she deserved to know.

Her first thought is that her whole life is a lie. The second thought is...

***

Beca's genuinely surprised when her doorbell rings. Who shows up unannounced these days, especially in the rain? Chloe has to say her name twice before it registers that it's actually her voice on the intercom. She almost doesn't open the door. Her reluctance is a knee jerk reaction: just hearing her voice is a lot and she doesn't have the capacity to face the emotional turmoil again: today hasn't been a good day. But the sound of her voice imploringly calling her name is a siren song impossible to resist. She deserved this: she deserves seeing her again even if it will hurt.

Her ex-lover has obviously been out in the rain without an umbrella. She's soaked and her red curls are clinging to her face. There's mascara running down her face and she's dripping on the landing outside of Beca's door. She's so beautiful Beca's heart aches.

”Chloe… What are you doing here? Thought we’d agreed not to meet and…”

”He’s not my father:”

”What?”

”Julius Bechley isn’t my father.”

”What?”

Beca stares at her like she just said something in a language she doesn’t speak. Chloe gets it: it’s a lot, her showing up on Beca’s doorstep after months of consciously avoiding each other.

”Julius Bechley lied to me. He’s not my father, we’re not sisters.”

For a few moments, Beca stares at her, as her eyes fill with tears.

”We’re not sisters?”

Chloe shakes her head and smiles.

”He impregnated half the world but lied to you about being his biological daughter? I hate that man so much. And right now, I kind of love him too, for not being your father.”

Beca is somehow crying and laughing at the same time. She walks into Chloe's arms like she never left and doesn't notice until her t-shirts already soaked how wet her clothes are. They laugh as they look at each other and Beca grabs the lapel of Chloe's jacket and pulls her close. The kiss is sloppy and deep and hot and Chloe groans into Beca’s mouth and sinks her fingers into the soft flesh of her hip. But it doesn't hurt. Nothing hurts now. She lets herself want Chloe again, after all these months, and loses track of time as her senses are all occupied with the feel and taste of the woman in her arms. When they break the kiss, the only sound in the room is their labored, erratic breathing.

"We better get you out of these wet clothes."

Chloe shrugs her wet jacket off and neither of them cares enough to pick it up off the floor as they're awkwardly backing into Beca's bedroom.

Beca breaks the kiss to whip her wet t-shirt over her head. It ends up on the floor, next to Chloe's jeans. Chloe's skin is cold from being out in the rain and she shivers as Beca runs her hands over her shoulders and arms to warm her up.

"I'm so glad you're not my sister…"

”Show me how glad you are.”

Beca covers her in kisses and holds her hand almost too tight to be comfortable. She feels the same: a feeling of urgency, like this one night is supposed to make up for the months spent apart. Chloe thinks how it isn't fair that she's been expected to live without this, expected to live without Beca's touch and her warm skin and her breathless voice in her ear whispering that she's thought about this, thought about her, every minute for the last six months. She lets it all out as Beca’s fingers slide into her slick heat and chants her name over and over as she moves inside her and leaves possessive marks on her neck.

Chloe cries after sex and she’s not even embarrassed. There’s been so much crying in the last few months, it’s become second nature. But this crying is different.

”These past months since I met you have been the best and worst of my life”, Beca whispers against her cheek and wraps her arms around her protectively.

She rolls over and kisses her and wonders if it will ever grow old, or if this headrush, this heat in her skin will be there every time they kiss. She can't wait to find out.

***  
The next morning, she wakes up from pins and needles again, Beca sleeping on her arm. She flexes her fingers and smiles. This particular pain, she’s missed. She stares up at the ceiling as the events of last night catches up with her.

Beca looks up at her with tired eyes.

"I can kind of hear you thinking, it's pretty loud."

"I can't believe father isn't my father. And a liar and kind of a rapist."

"I'm sorry, sweetie."

She adores the way the endearment sounds when it comes from Beca.

"You want me to kiss and make it better?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I want."

Beca does.

Later, when they try to get dressed and not just end up in bed again, Beca smirks at her.

"So… Were you jealous of Stacie?"

Chloe doesn't bother to pretend she doesn't know what she's talking about.

"Yeah, I was… She's really hot, if you hadn't noticed."

"Careful… You'll make _me_ jealous of Stacie."

Beca pulls her close.

"Am I still the only girl you've been with? I imagined you on dates with other people when we were apart and I kind of hated it..."

"There were a few dates with other people."

Beca frowns.

"Yeah? What happened?"

Chloe brushes her lips against Beca before she pulls back and looks deep into her eyes.

"They weren't you. As it turns out, I don't like kissing people who aren't you, so that's what happened."

Chloe cups her neck and puts all of her passion into the next kiss.

They end up on the couch, hands all over each other again.

They jump apart as the door swings open and thuds against the wall.

"Oh… Ew. Beca, this isn't OK. I get that she's hot, but you can't sleep with your sister. There's a reason incest isn't a thing anymore, OK? At least you're not making babies. But Beca, seriously. Incest? Not a thing."

Through the rant, Beca tried to cut in. Finally, she resorts to bellowing "AMY!!" at the top of her lungs.

"What… No need to yell."

Beca turns to Chloe.

"This is Amy, my former roommate. Amy still has a key that she likes to use without knocking."

"What? It saves time?"

"Chloe's not my sister."

"What? But you said that…"

"It's a long story…"

"My father isn't my father. He lied to me, so Beca isn't my sister."

Beca rolls her eyes.

"OK, so maybe not a long story."

"So, Ginger's your girlfriend now and not your sister?"

"We didn't get that far, we've just…"

"Spent the night with hot non-incest monkey love. Got you."

Amy looks at Chloe with a raised eyebrows and pursed mouth. Chloe smiles back, like they're having a perfectly normal conversation.

"You're buying me breakfast since you traumatized me with incest sex first thing in the morning and also for having to listen to Beca mope about being in love with her sister for six months."

"Can you stop saying incest please? Chloe's not my sister. And stop using sister too while we're at it."

***

They go to breakfast, and Beca doesn't have time to warn Chloe about the fact that Amy lacks boundaries, will ask anyone anything, no matter how personal, and will also tell anyone anything, no matter how personal.

She didn't have to, as it turns out. Chloe laughs delightedly at a weird story about fighting dingoes and asks Amy with a serious expression about her Fat Amy Winehouse show, like she really wants to know.

Chloe goes to the bathroom and Beca turns to Amy and sighs.

”OK, let me have it.”

Amy was sort of a trial by fire for Beca’s partners. She almost invariably hated everyone Beca dated or liked. When she’d met Keira, Amy had called her ”the stupidest person she’d ever met” and they sort of had a fight about that, even though Beca knew deep down that she and Keira weren’t compatible. Amy had tolerated Jesse, so Beca knew it was at least hypothetically possible.

”I like her.”

Beca stares at her, jaw hanging.

”Really…?”

”Yeah, she'll be great for you. And together you’re Beca-and-Chloe, which makes Bloe. And who doesn’t like a good bloe?”

Miracles, it appeared, did really happen.

When it's Amy's turn to leave them alone, Chloe takes Beca's hand.

"So… You told Amy you were in love with me?"

”Yeah… I hoped you didn’t hear that.”

”Why?”

Beca looks away. She sounds hesitant when she answers.

"I know it's totally insane to even talk about it. I mean, we've known each other for six months, but been together what? 40 hours in total?"

”But it doesn’t feel like it.”

”No… It doesn’t. It feels like I know you.”

Chloe squeezes her hand.

”I want you to be in love with me. I don’t care if it’s insane.”

”You do...?”

"I wasn't over you after six months. Not even a little. We've wasted so much time, Bec… I don't want to waste anymore."

Beca tears up.

"I tried so hard not to fall in love with you."

"Please tell me you failed."

Beca puts her head on her shoulder.

"We're not celebrating our anniversary in that shitty bar, just so you know."

"We're so not."

***

Chloe avoids her father for as long as she can. There's this red-hot ball of anger in her chest whenever she hears his name. He hasn't been allowed near the Bechley Clinic since the scandal, in some sort of vain attempt to save it. Secretly, Chloe looks forward to its demise: she doesn't care about her father's "legacy", she only cares about the lives he's ruined.  
Beca keeps telling her it might be good for her to have it out with him, tell him how she feels. One night, she sits down in her dark office and realizes Beca's right. The anger won't go away until she talks to him. She doesn't even know what she's doing there anymore. Last week, Beca ended a sentence with "when you stop working for your father" like it was a given fact and she knows right there and then that she's right.

It isn't the terrible infractions he committed that makes her yell at him in the end. It's not even lying about being her father. It's that he saw her in such obvious distress after she had to give Beca up and didn't care enough to change it. Didn't care enough about her to set her happiness before his convenience.

As usual, her father looks genuinely surprised that she's angry with him. It's a technique he's used ever since she was a little girl, to make her feel stupid and hysterical for being upset.

"You made me waste months with what I'm pretty sure is the love of my life because you lied to me and made us feel like there was something wrong with us for feeling this way. I don't think I can ever forgive you for that. And she's your actual daughter, so she's going to have to live with that and I feel sorry for her."

She has the epiphany right there that he's been a really bad father, biological or not. She looks at him calmly when she says "I quit. Both as your assistant and as your daughter."

She stops on the street outside to calm her breath and her pounding heart. Beca had known what she needed to do before she did. She dials her number with shaking hands.

"Bec? Are you in right now? I know I said I had something I had to do tonight and couldn't see you, but I kind of just broke up with my father and could really use a hug."

She hasn't moved in with Beca in her tiny walk-up already, that would be insane. But she hasn't...not moved in with Beca. She is there so often Beca didn't bat an eyelid when she accidentally called it home last week. It doesn't matter that it's tiny: they've spent most of the time in bed anyway. They'd also spent so much time singing together that they've had to apologize to an annoyed neighbor. Beca had casually mentioned that since Chloe was going to quit working for her father and Beca had a new job that paid way less, at an indie electronica label that made music she really believed in, it might be good for them both to pay less rent.

"Great. I'll be there in 10."

She's just about to hang up when she smiles softly at the sound of Beca's voice.

"Yeah… I love you too."

Beca wasn't her sister. But Chloe's pretty sure they're family now.


End file.
